


Planned Visits

by AnnaBolena



Series: These Years Spent in Paris [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 1825, Canon Era, Courfeyrac and Enjolras are the bestest of best friends change my mind, Enjolras arrives in Paris, Pre-Canon, Trans Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaBolena/pseuds/AnnaBolena
Summary: “The suit becomes you - it is quite a color on you, the dark blue of the waistcoat. Did I not promise you so in my letter? It seems rather a waste to travel in it. Oh, look at that, the whole thing is wrinkled! Did you sleep in it as well?”“As of yet it is the only one I own, and I thank you for it wholeheartedly, but the wrinkles could hardly be avoided in a carriage so cramped.”a.k.a. Enjolras visits Courfeyrac in Paris





	Planned Visits

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually, this series is supposed to chronicle les Amis right up until June 1832 - let's see if my ambitions aren't set too high.

**March 26th, 1825 - Paris, France**

The carriage is an old one, Courfeyrac thinks, when he first catches sight of it. One of the wheels seems to have been rather provisionally fixed while on the road. Doubtless it will require further seeing to once the passengers have all reached their destinations. Privately he thinks it could also do with a new coat of paint, for the blue it currently boasts is chipping away, but far be it from him to point that out to anyone asking. Perhaps the coachman intentionally neglected to ensure the rain could not abuse it so, in favor of saving some expenses. As it is the rain does its level best to continue a relentless assault upon the roof.

But that is rather unimportant, all things considered; it is just that Courfeyrac must entertain himself a while longer, and observing carriages seems the thing to do. The weather does not offer many diverting alternatives, if the sun were out he would turn his head towards the sky and observe the formation of clouds, or he might have brought a book to entertain him as he waits. 

Sixteen hooves come to an abrupt halt some paces from him. The horses whinny impatiently, their heads whipping around in a manner entirely unsynchronized. 

First, a rather young man with broad shoulders and a messy head of black curls opens the door. He offers his hand to help two women out, before gathering their trunks off the back. The elder of the two women looks inclined to tip him for his efforts, but then must think better of it when the man raises his hands in a peaceful gesture, conveying a protest to desist. Instead she smiles at him, says something to make him laugh and scratch at his hair, now looking abashed. Courfeyrac cannot hear their exchange. 

Then Enjolras at last alights, donning his hat to guard against the persistent rainfall. Blue eyes look around rather suspiciously, until they fall upon Courfeyrac. Enjolras smiles, coming quickly towards Courfeyrac to press his hands. 

“It is good to see you.” 

Courfeyrac, with some delay, thankfully thinks to interrupt a movement trained into him since they were first introduced, years ago. His hand hovers halfway to his mouth, Enjolras’ hand enclosed in his grasp. Courfeyrac imagines his contemplative expression looks rather comical, for Enjolras huffs out a quiet laugh. 

“I suppose I ought not to do that anymore, correct?” 

“It is not something I take issue with, for I do not doubt you have kissed a man’s hand before, Monsieur - though I do not think it is customary outside Avignon’s palace or a shared bed.” 

Nodding, Courfeyrac instead pats Enjolras’ hand fondly with the one still unoccupied and then releases it. 

“The suit becomes you - it is quite a color on you, the dark blue of the waistcoat. Did I not promise you so in my letter? It seems rather a waste to travel in it. Oh, look at that, the whole thing is wrinkled! Did you sleep in it as well?” 

“As of yet it is the only one I own, and I thank you for it wholeheartedly, but the wrinkles could hardly be avoided in a carriage so cramped.” 

Courfeyrac observes Enjolras a while longer. 

“The measurements are not entirely as they should be, we must do something about the arm lengths so they do not flop about your wrists so, but I suppose with you so direly in need of new garments an order made to a good tailor is necessary anyway.” 

Enjolras looks uncomfortable to hear mention of a tailor. Courfeyrac believes he knows why. 

“I am capable of fixing my own garments, you know?”

“Undoubtedly. I myself have been known to sew an errant button or two back onto my favorite coat. If the thought is horrid to you we may well go about the matter of expanding your wardrobe as we have gone about procuring what you currently sport, but rest assured the establishment I think on is run by people who know well the importance of discretion.” 

“I will think on it some more, thank you,” Enjolras nods, “For the moment I feel a hot meal and a dry room might do me some good - the roof of the carriage had a leak.” 

“That would explain why you had your hat at the ready,” Courfeyrac grins, accepting Enjolras’ rather small baggage. “Pray tell how did you amuse yourself on the way here? You were so long delayed in your journey; I do believe I would have perished of ennui on the road before ever reaching Paris.” 

“There was a man that provoked me into a lengthy discussion for most of the way. I think you really ought to meet him—” Here Enjolras turns about, fruitlessly searching for someone. “It would appear he has already gone. What a pity. We were not even close to finishing, and I was on the cusp of making a very important point when the driver signaled our arrival. I had thought he seemed amenable to continuing...” 

“Well,” Courfeyrac sighs, “Paris is large, but it is also familiar, you will find. No doubt you shall run into him upon a day if he intends to stay a while. For the time being we ought to be on our way, no? The rain cannot be good for anyone’s health, let us not provoke a bad turn.” 

Enjolras falls into step next to him easily, his stride confident but his shoulders beset by tension. The people passing them nod or touch their hats if they recognize Courfeyrac or must make way for them to pass through unencumbered. Courfeyrac watches Enjolras catalogue them, frowning when people steal a second glance at him. He wonders if he ought to tell the man it is not because they find something about his appearance odd. No, Courfeyrac would bet his savings that they simply find him uncommonly attractive. 

“Yes, I do believe he said he lives here,” Enjolras nods, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder, as though the man he conversed with might manifest out of thin air after all, professing to having secreted himself away to retain an element of mystery about him, “But enough about me. What has happened since your last letter?”

“There are talks that Monsieur Capet might at last be moved to officially accept Haiti’s legitimacy, if you can believe it! Though I am afraid that is all the good tidings I may bring you today - and it is only whispers I overheard about it, nothing concrete. What else…? Ah! Lindet died, a month or so he has been buried now. It is a pity, he had very much anticipated meeting you, but Paris giveth and it taketh away again.”

“What took him?”

“A fever,” Courfeyrac informs him - it is always a fever, it seems - “It is Paris’ most common gift to her people.”

“I hope he did not suffer much.” Enjolras inclines his head, a brief spell of mourning.

“As do we all. He left behind only scattered seeds of his republican ideals, unfortunately.”

Enjolras raises an eyebrow at him, glancing at him sideways, “Then it seems we have our work cut out for us, do we not?”

They turn onto his street together, through rain that seems to have no intention at all of ever stopping. Courfeyrac would liken it to the second coming if that did not feel dangerously close to blasphemy. Though, he supposes, what is the sin of blasphemy compared to his other vices? How important would a divine ruler judge the abuse of his name and gospel? He knows only how odious libel or slander is to earthly authorities, how harshly kings persecute those that would reveal their treachery in often colorful words to the masses. 

“Quite,” Courfeyrac nods, stopping at his lodgings and thanking the young housemaid that serves the old childless couple on the first floor for holding the door for them. She lowers her eyes in a rather convincing imitation of shyness; If she did not glance up at him beguilingly from under her lashes, Courfeyrac would readily take it as a truthful reflection of a demure character. As it is he smiles at her and receives a smile in turn. How very interesting. 

“My rooms are more modest than they were when last your family visited me, but I have downgraded in favor of affording other expenses.”

“It will serve us well until it is possible for me to make rent on a place of my own,” Enjolras smiles, looking over his shoulder at Courfeyrac after his gaze has swept the room. There is purpose in his eyes. 

“You intend to stay then?”

“I detect some reservation in your voice, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras prompts, turning away from him once more to catalogue Courfeyrac’s personal library. His hands trace the old leather spines reverently, and he smiles when his fingers come away dusty from the dull law texts Courfeyrac has not touched in months. It is not so with the more inflammatory polemic on his shelves.

An insistent nagging in his head reminds him that he really ought not to neglect his studies so, if he ever wishes to sit his final exams before a new decade relieves this one, which he does wish from time to time. Perhaps Enjolras’ presence will bring with it some motivation to attend his lectures more frequently.

“Hardly reservation, you know you are welcome to stay as long as you desire. But what do you imagine I may tell your parents when they write me to ask if I know anything about your sudden departure? They know we have maintained amicable correspondence for years, Enjolras. Do you not imagine they will think you have run off to elope with me and come knocking at my door?”

“I have taken all your letters with me,” Enjolras waves a dismissive hand. “They will not find anything to lead them here.”

“It does not take written proof to come to such a conclusion - the barest hint of common sense will bring them to my doorstep, and though their reasoning would be wrong their suspicions are well-founded, since you did come to me.”

“You might preemptively write my progenitors and inquire as to why your letters have gone unanswered for some time now, then, might you not? You may easily feign some concern for my health, and they will believe you innocent in my flight.”

“They will not,” Courfeyrac snorts, “Your cleverness did not fall into your head apropos of nothing, my friend. Give your father some credit for undoubtedly being shrewd enough to see right through my deception in such a case.”

“I will not go back, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras’ teeth worry at the inside of his cheek as he speaks, though he takes care to school the rest of his face into careful neutrality. His eyes betray nothing of his nerves. 

“Nor would I have you do so. I swore I would help you and I am as much a man of my word as you,” Courfeyrac assures him, “But we must employ infinite caution as we establish you here, surely you agree? Your father will look for you, sooner rather than later. Quite possibly he has already formed search parties, and will grace us with a visit in a day or two.”

Enjolras rolls his shoulders, turns around to face Courfeyrac, says: “Then tell me how we ought to go about it. I am all for any suggestion you might make.”

Courfeyrac takes some time to once more consider the man before him. Enjolras is young, very much so - not two years ago Courfeyrac was as new to Paris as he is now, and back then he was significantly less composed. The city is daunting enough in itself. To come here nigh friendless and in want of connection? Unimaginably worse. He has gone about this all wrong. 

“Apologies. That may wait until later, friend,” Courfeyrac reconsiders, smiling and gesturing towards his dining table. “For now let us eat. I do believe you said you could use a good meal. Full bellies, I have heard, do not hamper the mind in forming strategies.”

Enjolras nods. His face slips into a smile that reveals a good amount of exhaustion to accompany his relief. With that simple gesture, his rooms feel a little more like home to both of them. 

“Thank you, Courfeyrac.”

**Author's Note:**

> You've made it - Come say Hi on [ Tumblr ](http://www.annabrolena.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> Historical Notes:  
> -Charles X, being Louis XVI's brother, was also a Capetian. During the Revolutionary Trial of King Louis XVI he was referred to as Citizen Capet, after the monarchy had been abolished. Hence Courfeyrac calling Charles Monsieur Capet.  
> -Haiti was recognized in May 1825, over 20 years after their revolt!  
> -Jean-Baptiste Robert Lindet became a substitute for an ill member of the Committee of Public Safety during the Revolution, and he was one of two members that refused to sign off on Danton's execution. (The other was Philippe Rühl). He refused to hold office under Napoleon, but he did return from exile some years before his death in February 1825. The Bourbon Restoration branded him a Regicide, but he wasn't executed precisely because of his opposition to Napoleon.


End file.
